


it feels like we're only going backwards

by weigh153



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Fix-It, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Repression, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weigh153/pseuds/weigh153
Summary: He saw Eddie’s face, he saw Eddie’s smile and it was so warm it went straight to his heart. He felt everything that he had been missing in the last twenty something years of his life all at one; the dizzying giddyness of his first crush, the heartbreaking pain of pinning, the overwhelming warmth of love. Sure, he was older now, hair greying at the roots, crows feet around his eyes and a crease between his brows, but it was the same Eddie. He had the same warmth, the same smile.God, Richie would kill to see that smile again.***aka: the one where Eddie is hurt and anxious and Richie is repressed and stressed, and they rely on each other to get better.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 14





	it feels like we're only going backwards

Richie’s back hurts.

It has now been about three days since he’d been in this hospital. Three days since they came in, covered in sewage, Ben and Bill carrying Eddie in while Richie was falling apart in Beverley’s arms, barely able to hear Bill shouting for a doctor over his sobs. It had been two days since Eddie had gotten out of surgery, two days since the doctors told them it was a miracle he was even alive and that he was going to make a full recovery. Two days since Richie cried again, but this time they were tears of relief.

But his back hurts.

It hurts because in those three days, Richie had flat out  _ refused _ to leave Eddies side. He stayed sitting in the same hard plastic chair in the small patient room, only getting up to use the restroom or to buy a stale granola bar from the vending machine. The others tried to get him to leave to take a shower or maybe get some proper sleep, but Richie denied every single time. They thought that maybe it was because he felt some sort of responsibility for Eddies injuries, because Richie saw what was going to happen in the deadlights and still wasn’t able to get Eddie out of the way from It’s claw. However, the real reason that Richie couldn’t leave was because when he walked into the restaurant just a few days earlier and made eye contact with Eddie, he felt complete for the first time in decades.

He saw Eddie’s face, he saw Eddie’s  _ smile _ and it was so warm- so  _ inviting- _ it went straight to his heart and resonated through his whole body right down through his bones. He felt everything that he had been missing in the last twenty something years of his life all at one; the dizzying giddyness of his first crush, the heartbreaking pain of pinning, the overwhelming warmth of love, and the  _ aha! this is it! this is all I’ve ever needed! _ moment that only seems to exist in the movies. He was looking at the first person he had ever fallen in love with. Sure, he was older now, hair greying at the roots, crows feet around his eyes and a crease between his brows, but it was the same Eddie. He had the same warmth, the same smile.

God, Richie would  _ kill _ to see that smile again.

He gathers up the courage to get up and wander over to the side of Eddie’s hospital bed, dragging his chair with him and sitting down right by him. He gently takes Eddie’s limp hand (it’s bigger now, but it’s still the same hand he used to hold all those years ago) and holds it with his own.

It’s cold to the touch.

He shudders but reminds himself that Eddie is  _ not _ dead, and he grounds himself by forcing himself to focus on the slow but rhythmic beeps coming from the heart rate monitor.

Richie can’t help but imagine what their lives could have been like had he and Eddie been able to leave Derry together. Sure, they probably would have still forgotten their pasts, but Richie thinks, no, he  _ knows _ that he and Eddie would have gotten along regardless. They would have gone to LA, or New York, and lived in a tiny shitty apartment that they could barely afford, surviving off of Cup of Noodles and microwave dinner. Richie would have done stand-up in small bars after working a minimum wage job while Eddie would have gone to university and gotten a degree. It would have been perfect. Perfect in their own funny little way.

But instead they are here. In a small recovery room, their futures as uncertain as when they were thirteen with big dreams but no means of achieving them.

Richie squeezes Eddie’s hand, as though it might somehow pump life back into him.

At some point Ben and Bev stop by. They drop off a vase of flowers, Ben muttering something about how plants supposedly have curative properties, Bev giving Richie hug that lingers.

Richie thinks she must know.

Bev always seemed to  _ know _ a bit more than the others. When they were younger he thought that must have been that sixth sense that women are thought of having; a woman’s intuition, he thinks its called, the ability to know what others are thinking and feeling without them having to say it.

Now he thinks it must have been obvious back then, how much he loved Eddie. He loved all the Losers, of course, but it was always different with Eddie. She must have seen how he looked at him. How his eyes lingered on Eddie’s features just a bit too long and how Eddie was the target of most of his jokes and teasing. She must have noticed how protective he got whenever Eddie was put in danger and how Eddie was the only one who could make him shut up.

“He’s gonna be okay.” She whispers in his ear, and he tries to believe her as he nods, her arms still around him.

Eventually she pulls away.

She and Ben pull up chairs and sit with him for a bit.

They talk.

They share easy conversation between the two of them and Richie just listens along, welcoming the momentary distraction. They talk about everything from which city they would like to move to after Beverley’s divorce, about what breed of dog they would like to get, about what Mike and the others are going to do once they’ve all recovered.

Richie wonders about what he and Eddie are going to do after Eddie recovers.

_ If _ Eddie ever recovers.

He feels like crying but he’s out of tears so he just let’s the emptiness consume him. 

***

It’s not until a couple days later that Eddie wakes up.

In that time, Bev is able to convince Richie to at least shower by bringing him small bottles of expensive looking complimentary hotel shampoo and a change of clothes. She helps him shave the uneven stubble on his jaw and is also able to convince the nurses to bring in a small cot into Eddie’s room for him to get a few hours of sleep on. She brings him real food, sandwiches and salads that taste bland to him but nonetheless are better than the vending machine crap he was relying on before. He also let’s Ben access his email account to tell his agent he won’t be able to do shows for the foreseeable future, and to let people know that he is okay.

They remind him that he is human and that Eddie would want him to take care of himself.

Richie supposes that much is true.

When Eddie wakes up, Richie is alone in the room, lying awake on the cot on his side staring at him. Eddie blinks his eyes open slowly, so subtly that Richie might not have noticed except for that the beeping of the heart rate monitor becomes erratic and his shallow breathing turns into gasps and wheezes and horrible choking sounds due to the tube in his throat that is supposed to be helping him breath. Richie jumps off the bed and hurries to Eddies side, slamming his left fist against the call button to get a nurse and taking one of Eddie’s hands with his right hand, squeezing it tightly as he tries to get Eddie to calm down.

“It’s okay buddy, we’re gonna get you some help, yeah? You’re gonna be okay, yeah?” Richie repeats the words over and over, trying not to let the stress he is feeling show in his voice. He sees the fear in Eddies eyes as they hold eye contact, not looking away even when a team of doctors comes into the room and crowds around them. One injects something into the IV, and as quickly as he woke up, Eddie is knocked out again.

“Hey! What was that? He was awake!” Richie protests. He had been waiting so long to see Eddie conscious again and it was being torn away from him.

“It’s just something to knock him out while we removed the breathing device. He was trying to breath around it and it was causing him too much stress.” Her tone is a bit condescending, but he lets her guide him out of the way. He sits back down on the cot and watches as the doctor carefully removes Eddie’s tube. His heart rate dips mildly after it is taken out, but it quickly picks itself back up as his body remembers how to breath on it’s own.

“He should wake up again in a few hours. When he does, press the button so we can come check on him.” The doctor announces as he removes his gloves and disposes of them in the small trash can in the corner of the room.

“Thanks.” Richie mutters as the team leaves the room, leaving him and Eddie back in that all too familiar silence.

He contemplates calling Bev and the others, telling them the news and having them come over to be here for when Eddie wakes up, but a bigger more selfish part of him doesn’t want to.

He wants to be alone with Eddie.

The next few hours pass by painfully slowly. Every once in while there is a blip in the rhythmic beeping and his head jerks up, only to see that Eddie’s eyes still closed.

Richie is zoned out when it happens. He hears an irregularity from the machine but doesn’t bother looking up this time. He keeps staring at the ground, at the linoleum tiles that reflect the harsh light in an incredibly unappealing manner. He keeps his eyes down until he hears a cough.

It’s quiet, barely there, but it pierces the silence of the room and when Richie looks up Eddie is looking right back at him, his eyelids droopy from the drugs and his skin still pale but he is very clearly awake. Richie tries to keep his heart from beating out of his chest as he hops off the cot and steps over to Eddie’s bedside.

“Heya, Eds,” he whispers softly, “How are you feeling?”

Richie holds his breath while he waits for Eddie to answer. He scans his face, his soft hair that has darkened with age, his skin that now has the wrinkles of a forty year old, his chapped lips, the big bandage that is protecting the knife wound across his cheek.

“Water.” Is all Eddie says, well, more like croaks.

Richie nods furiously.

“Water. Yeah. I can get you some water.”

Richie preses the call button while he grabs his water bottle from the side table. He uncaps it and holds it, waiting for Eddie to take it.

Eddie tries to lift his hands to take it, but as he does a cry rips through him. He must be in a lot of pain. Richie’s eyes widen with fear.

“Shh, shh.” He pauses, before shuffling closer and bringing the bottle closer to Eddie’s lips. “Let me help you.”

Richie brings the water bottle to Eddie’s lips and slowly tilts it so a little bit of water trickles out into his mouth. Eddie closes his eyes and it looks like he’s in pain as he takes a couple gulps before turning his head slightly to get Richie to stop.

“Thank you.” Eddie whispers.

Just as Richie is about to respond, the same team of doctors from early come into the room.

“Mr. Kaspbrak, glad to see your awake.” A man who Richie recognizes as Eddie’s surgeon says.

“Call me Eddie.” Eddie replies, his voice slowly coming back to normal after a little under a week of disuse.

“Okay Eddie. So, do you know why you’re here?”

The doctors ask him a million questions about everything from how he’s feeling to how he sustained his injuries. They explain that his recovery will be long and most likely painful, and how, due to his inability to recount how he ended up in the hospital (which was a lie, he knew what had happened, he just knew he couldn’t tell the truth), they were going to require him to have at least one visit with a psychologist to ensure there was nothing going on mentally before they could discharge him.

Eddie looks disinterred and distracted the entire time, which is just so unlike him. His eyes half closed as he listens along, barely paying any attention.

“Eddie, it really is a miracle your alive. With how much blood you lost and all the damage sustained to your vital organs, we were really expecting much worse. Anyhow, we’ll leave you some time to rest before going over physical therapy and medications.”

Eddie mumbles a  _ thank you _ and Richie give the doctor a terse smile as they leave the room, leaving them alone together.

“Is everyone else…” Eddie starts.

“They’re fine! They’re good. Everyone else is good.” Richie finishes for him.

Eddie relaxes visibly. Richie pulls a chair right up to his bedside and sits down.

“I really thought we were going to lose you, you know.” Richie says softly.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie says, eyes cast down with shame.

“Hey, no, it’s not your fault.” Richie corrects himself quickly. He feels like an idiot, trying and failing to say the right thing. There’s a weird tension between the two of them that he is dying to break, but he can’t. 

“I’m tired.” Eddie mumbles tiredly.

“Okay. I can um, I can go. Let you get some rest.” He goes to stand, but before he can-

“NO!” Eddie shouts, his head jerking up and his eyes widening. “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go. Please.”

“Okay, hey, it’s okay. I’ll stay.”

Richie sits back down and watches as Eddie calms down, sinking back into the bed. They stay quiet, Richie watching as Eddie slowly falls asleep. As soon as his breathing evens out completely, Richie pulls out his phone to text Beverley.

_ Richie: Eddie woke up. _

_ Beverley: Really? _

_ Beverley: That’s great! _

_ Beverly: How is he? _

_ Richie: He’s okay, I think. He hasn’t said much. He’s sleeping again. _

_ Beverley: Ben and I are on our way. Are the others coming? _

_ Richie: I haven’t told them yet. _

_ Beverley: Okay. Let’s talk when I get there. _

***

Beverly comes with more food and some fresh flowers to replace the slightly wilted ones in the vase. She and Ben both give Richie a squeeze on the shoulder. Eddie is still asleep, his eyebrows furrowed even in sleep, as though deep in though. Richie itches to smooth the wrinkles, take away his worries.

“We should tell the others.” Bev whispers as not to wake him, her hands still on Richie’s shoulders, softly massaging them.

“I don’t want to overwhelm him.” Richie replies. “He was stressed. I think he’s still in a lot of pain, and he was really anxious.”

“We could tell them to stay at the hotel,” Bev offers, “but they deserve to know, Rich.”

“I know.” Richie sighs, shifting in his seat. “Okay. Let’s tell them. But let’s wait until he wakes up to ask him if they should come visit.”

Eddie wakes up again about half an hour later, a little more alert this time. The drugs must be wearing off because he looks more alert than he did before, and he also complains about the pain. A nurse comes in and ups his dose of painkillers slightly.

“It’s good to see you, Eddie.” Bev says to him, a sympathetic smile on her face.

“How do you feel?” Ben asks.

“Everything fucking hurts.” Eddie replies. “What happened?”

Richie, Beverly, and Ben all glance at each other.

“Well, um, It got you with his claw. You were gone, or, we thought you were, at least.” Ben explains. “But Richie wouldn’t leave you down there, so we brought you here.”

“Oh.” Eddie frowns. “And you guys, everyone else, are fine?”

“Yeah. We um, we got lucky.”

“Good.”

It’s tense, it’s awkward. Eddie isn’t being himself. He’s strangely quiet.

“Ben and I are going to go back to the hotel to see the others. Should we tell them to stop by?” Beverly asks him.

“I don’t know.” Eddie says, still looking distant.

“Okay. Well. If you want them to come by just let Richie know and he can send me a text.”

“You’re not going with them?” Eddie asks Richie.

“I was gonna keep you company, Eds, but I can leave if you want some time alone.” Richie says, trying to keep the tone light.

“Stay.” Is all Eddie says.

“It was nice seeing you Eddie” Ben and Bev say they’re goodbyes before leaving.

There’s a beat of silence after the door shuts, and God, if Richie isn’t already sick of the quiet.

“Come here.” Eddie says.

Richie steps to the side of his bed. Eddie slowly sits up a little taller in the hospital bed, grimacing and very clearly in pain. He then very tentatively wraps his arms around Richies waist.

“I missed you, Trashmouth.” Eddie mumbles, his uninjured cheek squished against Richie’s belly. Richie gently puts his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, holding him there.

“God, I missed you too Eds.” Richie swallows to keep his tears at bay.

“Don’t call me that.” Richie can practically see Eddie’s scowl.

Richie smiles, because at least some things stay the same. 

  
  



End file.
